Rivulets
by nia-ox
Summary: I'll admit I didn't originally find him that great. It wasn't love at first sight, or anything. But I fell for him, I trusted him, let him into my home and heart. Then he took it. Literally.    AH OOC JasperBella
1. Preface

Preface

"If I'd known then what you'd become, I never would have let you through my door," I snarled at him, kitchen knife in hand. What was I going to do with it? Honestly, I didn't know yet.

But it made me feel safer.

"You should've known!" He howled, tearing his hands down his face, a madman burning. "You should have known what you would do!"

"What _I_ would do? Don't you blame me for this! I never asked for this! " His eyes burned in the light of the flames and I wondered if the phone had been caught in them yet. Could I reach it? Would he let me?

"But I do blame you, Bella. And now you're going to pay for it." He pulled the gun from the waistband of his jeans.

My breath stuck in my throat: what could I say? I loved him? For in truth, I didn't any more, I hated him. My head spun with the heat, the noise of the fire alarm piercing my senses.

"Goodbye," he sobbed, tears mingling with the sweat on his face. "I really love you, Bella, I really do. But if I can't have you, noone else can."


	2. Chapter 1

Now I wouldn't say this is me doing my big comeback. Just a little something I wanted to get out. Hope you don't think it's shitty.

* * *

><p><strong>2 months earlier<strong>

I drummed my fingers against the keys on my laptop.

"Why can't you write?" I asked myself out loud. "Imagination all wrung dry?"

It wouldn't surprise me. Things hadn't exactly been exciting lately. I'd lost my job - my proper job, my career. And now I was working as a delivery girl for a local firm. I kept telling myself that it was a _'for now_' thing, something to get me back up on my feet. I kept telling my Dad that, too.

But I didn't think another publishing firm would take me on after the scandal.

So I was a delivery girl. A fucking 25 year old delivery girl, who, up until last month, was the youngest editor Ravensburg Publishers had ever seen. But now, yes, delivery girl. A monotonous job, only slightly better paid than the waitressing job I'd had for a few days before this. It was something to scrape together the rent, more specifically the other half of it whose previous payer had - well, up and left me. Bastard.

But I wasn't going to talk about him. Son of a bitch. I wasn't going to waste my precious brain juices on hating his slimy guts for walking out when I needed him most. No way, Jose.

I was focusing the brain gunk on writing a novel. Not Mills and Boon, a crime novel. Or a horror story. Either one, something that would make the reader jump while reading if they heard the floorboards creak. Something gripping.

Problem was, I couldn't write it. And I was wasting a lot of the brain junk on Jacob. Twat.

I sighed, getting up and slamming the laptop closed. Novels do not write themselves, as I was quickly finding out. I felt a bit guilty then, opening the laptop again gingerly to check I hadn't cracked the screen; I couldn't exactly afford to buy myself a new laptop if this one died.

Drizzle mewed as I walked to the kitchen counter to pick up my bag, rubbing against my legs. My only friend.

"Sorry baby, I'll be back in a bit. Mama's just getting some coffee." He kept mewling, crooning.

I knew who he wanted, 'cause I wanted him too. "He's not coming home, darl." I murmured, bending down to scratch behind his ears. "As much as we both want him to."

I locked up and hot footed it down the stairs. Starbucks was a five minute walk from our - my - flat, and since Jake didn't really like coffee we never came down a lot. It wouldn't have memories like the corner shop. Where I'd split open the milk carton all over his shoes and he'd been pissed off with me for a day or so because Drizzle kept sniffing them. I stopped abruptly outside, longing for a second to see him by the fridges in the back.

He wasn't there.

I stepped in, took one look at the counter - or rather, behind it - and made a very bad decision.

"Twenty Malboro reds, please. And a lighter." Two years of quitting just to jump back on the horse when things got bad. Good one, Bella.

I took my change and my heavenly death sticks and scurried away, not wanting to be engaged in conversation by Edna, corner shop lady. 64, nosy bugger, knew Jake and I had broken up, probably didn't know why.

Lighting up the first cigarette of the day used to be the best feeling in my life - but this, God, this was so much better. Mmmm, nicotine.

I savoured every inhalation of it, then let it drop and stamped it out. Starbucks, full of people, noisy. Counter, order, money, sweetener. Sit down. Calm.

No-one would talk to me here. Similar to at home, but there it was lonely and empty with half of everything gone. I think he took half of me with him.

Man sits down one table over. Catch him out of the corner of my eye - ignore him. He was looking at me.

"Whatcha' reading?" He sounded Southern. And he wanted to talk, great.

"Newspaper," I answered, bluntly. Fingers crossed he could hear the _DO NOT TALK TO ME, STRANGER IN STARBUCKS_ in my voice.

Apparently not. "Interesting?" There was a lilt of mirth in his voice, couldn't see why.

"Engrossing," I mumbled, staring blankly at whatever was in front of me.

"Great talent that you've got there," he said. "Reading upside down."

I actually looked, properly. Shit. It was upside down - busted. I looked up and bam, golden hair, bright blue eyes. Kinda beautiful.

I felt bad then, is that bad? I don't think I'd have cared so much if he'd been some ugly fat guy. Not that I'm skinny myself, but hey. "Sorry, bit distracted." _END OF CONVERSATION._

"Jasper," he held his hand out across the space between us, and I spotted a tattoo peeking out of his sleeve. I took it.

He then took that as an invitation to invade the seat opposite me, bringing his stinky black coffee with him. I did like black coffee...but Jake drank it.

"Am I interrupting your PMSing time?" He asked. Funny guy, I thought sarcastically.

"No, you're interrupting my- um...Okay I don't have a witty comeback right now. I'll get back to you on that."

He chuckled. "You didn't tell me your name."

"Bella," I smiled. In all fairness to him, he was trying to cheer me up. Which I needed. I think I was warming to hot, reclusive looking but clearly confident tattoo guy.

"What do you do, Bella?"

"Edit- deliveries. I do deliveries. And you?"

"Artist. The tortured type." He winked, I laughed.

We talked for a while. Turns out he was nervous, apparently didn't chat girls up in Starbucks often. Just moved into town. Didn't have any friends.

"Well, I better get going," I said, gathering up my stuff. "Nice meeting you, Jasper."

"You too." He smiled. "Actually, think I better get going too. Long walk home," he chuckled.

We almost parted at the door but no, turns out we were going the same direction. Or he was following me. Could've been that. Stalker type, you know the deal. I'm kidding!

"Well, this is me," I said, at the end of my road. It wasn't that I didn't want him to know where I lived, but - I didn't want him to know where I lived.

"I'll walk you," he said, turning with me. Okay, so I wasn't averse to the idea. Male company was nice right now. Any company bar cat - no offence, Drizzle - was nice right now. Noone had called for weeks.

And then, like some sort of _HUGE SIGN OF IMPENDING DOOM_, it started pouring down. Not the nice kind of drizzle-rain that we'd named our cat after, but the drenched-to-the-skin-wet-in-every-pore-hair-dripping kind of rain. We ran, screeching to my door, as lightning lit the drenched chin of my new friend and the thunder rolled across the cloud filled expanse above us. It was kind of ominous. Could put that in my book. I unlocked the door and dived, gasping into the hallway. He stood in the porch, hands in pockets.

And hell, I couldn't really leave him out there, could I?


	3. Chapter 2

A week later, I was infatuated. Somehow Jasper had ensnared me.

I don't know when it happened. Whether it was me forgetting to wave him away once the storm has stopped, or the first stumbling kiss when we both reached for the cigarettes at the same and our faces got just that little bit too close...I don't think I'll ever know.

But we clicked. In some stupid, fucked up way we clicked and I couldn't stop thinking about him. When I fell in love with Jake, it was a natural progression, of friendship into strong feelings and safety into love, security, stability. Until...well, that.

With Jasper, it was like an obsession; an insidious disease spreading through me, impossible to ignore. What was he doing right now? While he was right next to me. What's he thinking?

He sang to me, words that made no sense, hearts and blood and bones. All the things we had in us that contained each other. I am in his heart, blood, and bones. He is in mine.

Jazz was an artist. A painter, and he told me he'd paint my soul on my skin for the world to see, because it was beautiful.

We went to his apartment instead of mine that day. But really it was just a room with white walls, full of empty canvases, paint in boxes and a mattress with sheets and pillows on the bare wooden floor. He painted my entire body in words, mine, mine, mine, love, death, capture, feed...When he was done my body was a canvas full of his feelings. He photographed them with an old style polaroid and I kept one in my purse so that I could think of him while I worked.

I didn't work so often now. Called in sick a lot - they kept saying, depression - but who knows what that meant when I had Jasper? Like my own personal drug he pulled me from highs and lows. And the lows were starting to get lower.

I walked in on him painting a mural of me on his wall with his fingers one day. I don't know when, the time blurred. I was long and lithe and naked. Rivulets of red crawled from my chest down to my legs, creeping along like poison ivy, from that middle point in my chest. My eyes - her eyes, that couldn't be me, not me on that wall like that - were all black. Did he see me like that? All consuming? I cried, so he painted my face to cover up the blotches so he couldn't see.

I woke up in the night, gasping - and he was next to me. I heard the soft purr of Drizzle to my right and nestled into Jasper, my nose in the crook of his collar bone.

"What's wrong darling?"

"Bad dream," I murmured.

"I love you," he whispered, nose touching mine. "You are like a hurricane the way you've torn through my life, torn through the emptiness. I can't imagine a breath without you now. You're unrelenting, waves pushing at my heart. You will never leave. Ever. Imagine my life without you, the darkness rolling in, credits in a movie. You're the opening scenes, the brightness, the light, the radiance. You make my eyes open after every blink, Bella. You make me breathe. Without you I'd rather my heart cut out. I'd let you keep it, I'd let you keep me all. I'm yours, you're mine."

Now I wonder if I'd seen it then, with the over the top hyperbole, would it have made a difference?

"No, silly," I giggled. "I'm not yours, I'm mine, I'm me." He was silent. We drifted back to sleep.

I woke up to a heavy weight on my torso. I groggily opened my eyes and went to rub the sleep away - but I couldn't reach- I was - was I tied? "Jazz?" I inquired.

I opened my eyes and he was sitting on me, holding a crude pen of some kind, with extra bits all over it.

"I want you to remember you're mine," he murmured.

"What are you talking about Jazz?" I said, trying to get up. My arms and feet were tied, what were they tied to, why was it so dark? Was I dreaming?

"Stay still," he ordered. "I don't want you to mess this up."

I heard a loud buzzing noise and my tired eyes finally swam into focus. Jasper was holding a tattoo gun. The shadows on my white walls were distorted versions of the shape above me. What was Shadow Jasper holding? A gun? A hammer?

"What the hell are you doing Jas? Jazz? Stop it!" I flailed under him, a trapped butterfly in his net.

"I don't want you to forget," he said, pressing his hand gently over my mouth. "You're mine, I'm yours. Stay still baby, it won't hurt too much."

He tattooed my hip while I cried, fighting under him then shaking when I'd lost the will to fight and gasping through my teeth at the searing pain. I'd never been tattooed before. Under restraint, unwillingly, by my lover.

When he was done, he uncuffed me. I curled into a ball around myself, crying and rocking. He got up and left.

He came back later - how much later, I don't know. A minute? Twenty? Two hours? There is no way to tell time from pain. He curled around me and cried in my ear, I'm sorry baby, Bella I'm sorry, Please forgive me, I love you please, Don't leave me, Forgive me Bella, I love you, You're mine, You won't leave me.

The next morning I sat with him while he tattooed his mirror of mine on his arm; he couldn't angle it right at his hip and I refused to touch it. Dirty needle, not just from my blood or the ink - but from the pain. I ran my fingers over the letters, m-i-n-e, feeling the ache.

Angela called two days later. She hadn't seen me in a month, she said, we needed to catch up. I thought I'd seen her last week.

She met Jasper. We told all our pretty stories, our tattoos, his painting of me on the wall, his songs, the day we met. I was tired, and my hip ached, and Jasper went out for a cigarette.


	4. Chapter 3

Angela was my best friend. And naturally I took her word as gospel, even though she'd been over the other side of the planet when all the work shit went down. And her word wasn't exactly the words I'd been expecting when I asked her opinion of my oh-so-wonderful new man.

"What the fuck, Bella?"

Yeah. Not exactly promising.

"What? What's wrong with him?" I was slightly indignant. I'd fallen hard and fast for Jasper and was having trouble hiding the offence I'd just taken.

"Bella he's...look I'll have to just come out and say it. Creepy."

"How!" My Jasper wasn't creepy. Sure, the way we met, slightly dysfunctional. The mural on his wall of me, also slightly odd. But that wasn't _bad!_ The tattoo...Okay, not he was just an artistic type!

"Bells, he - he didn't stop looking at you. And not in a nice way, before you say it, it was kind of - well, it looked like he was going to murder anything that came near you. Don't get me started on the plans to move in! You've known him what, two months?"

"Yeah, almost two months, and so what? We spend all our time together! That's like four months right there because we know double about each other than most people who've been together two months."

She looked at me disbelievingly; I took another angle. "Look Ange, I need help with the rent, he's a great guy, we're getting along really good, what's wrong with me being impulsive once in a while?"

"Bella. This guy turns up in Forks: middle of nowhere, with no friends, no history from any other towns, cities, countries - he has no family to speak of, doesn't own a phone, and painted a MASSIVE NAKED PORTRAIT OF YOU ON HIS WALL. I don't know if you can hear that deafening ringing but it's alarm bells, okay?"

"He's private! He's just not ready to talk about it, he just said something bad had happened! I'm not going to pry!"

"Oh sure, but you're ready to live with the guy! And get a fucking tattoo!"

How can you tell someone who loves you that you were - whatever I was? Forced into getting that tattoo? Its crude form sat on my hip - it was peeling now and I wanted to scratch it because the itch was so intense but Jasper said I musn't. He loved our tattoos. And I'll admit it was growing on me. But I just...I woke sometimes at night, feeling his weight on me and hearing the buzzing - but nothing would be there and he'd rock me back to sleep.

"Look Belly," she said, using my nickname, "I know how this must look, that I'm not being supportive because of you f-"

"I don't want to talk about that!" I yelped.

"Bella, it's no big deal any more. You fucked your co-editor, his wife caught it on tape and sent it through email to the entire company. It's done. It's over. It's a funny anecdote to tell your kids. I know you didn't want to lose Jake, I know you still love him. And with all due respect to you and Jasper, I don't think you really love this guy, I think this is just some kind of stupid rebound to make you forget the way Edward-"

"Ange, don't say his name," I croaked. She'd gone far enough.

"And Jake made you feel." I buried my head in my hands. Horrible, horrible thoughts. I felt a gentle grip on my arm. I opened my eyes to Jasper staring down at Angela.

"I think that's quite enough Angela." He said, lifting me from the table, a gentle pull on my arm. "We won't be seeing you again."

Angela looked at me disbelievingly; I could practically hear her voice in my head! _Are you going to let him do that Bella? Really?_

Jasper was silent until we got back to my flat. When we got in, Drizz rushed to my feet; I knelt down and bundled him into my arms, holding onto his calming form. I could hear the thu-thunk, thu-thunk, thu-thunk of his heart in his chest.

"I'm sorry," I said for no reason. Why was I apologising? Oh, Angela. My fault. "I should never have taken you to meet her."

Jasper was facing the window, smoking. His shoulders were shaking - was he crying? I gently dropped Drizzle onto the couch and advanced towards him. "Jasper? Baby are you okay?"

He spun around, cigarette still in hand. I dodged its path. "No, Bella. I am not o- fucking-kay." His hand slowly clenched in a fist around the lit cigarette and I yelped, prying his hands away. "Who the fuck is Edward? Hmm? Have you been seeing him behind my back, is that it? While you've been in work? Hmm?"

I pried his fingers from each other and inside was a vicious red mark. "Jasper," I murmured. "Look what you've done."

He pushed me away, flinging the butt of the cigarette. "ANSWER ME!"

"Jas, baby," I inched forwards. "Edward happened before you. It was an office romance, an affair, there weren't even feelings behind it." I lied. I loved Edward; he made me feel alive in the way Jake refused to. Jake and I were secure. Edward and I were wild and passionate. "I don't even work there any more, you know that."

"You're not seeing him any more, huh?" Jasper whispered with malice, moving closer to me. "Yeah? Is that why he fucking left you flowers, hmm?"

My brows creased. "He hasn't left me any flowers Jazz! Where are you getting these ideas?"

"He did leave you flowers." He hissed. "And a note, saying _Call me, I miss you._ And you didn't call. So he called you. Machine got it, 'cause I was out getting your stupid fucking cat food."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"What, so you could run off and leave me? Like hell, Bella, like hell. You don't fucking get to leave."

"I have to leave," I ventured. "I've got work in an hour."

"So you get to see your fucking Edward? And fuck him? And talk about how I'm not enough for you, I'm not good in bed? Is that it?"

"No, Jasper. It's not that at all, stop being jealous. I'm gonna go to work, and leave you here with my favourite guy," I kneeled down to the furball twisting around my ankles and scratched behind his ears. "And you should think about this. I've never mentioned Edward before, because he means so little to me. I wouldn't be here with you now if he meant anything to me."

"I don't want to be your rebound guy," he murmured, hanging his head. "I love you."

"You're not. I love you, Jasper, I really do. But you need to stop being so damn jealous. And please go to the hospital about your hand, I'd take you but... unless I go to work we're not gonna have enough money to pay the rent."

We still weren't going to have enough money to pay the rent.

Jasper wrapped his arms around me. He shook and I realised he was crying. "I just love you so much, and you're so much better than me, Bella."

"I'm not Jazzy, you're so good to me," I whispered into his neck.

"I just, I rely on you for everything. When you're happy, I'm happy, when you're sad, I'm sad...I feed off you for everything and I can't imagine losing you."

"I have to leave. I'm gonna be late for work. I love you." I pulled away, kissing him gently and picking up Drizzle to give him one last cuddle before I left.

"I love you!" I repeated, closing the door behind me.


	5. Chapter 4

I walked in from work and dropped my keys in the dish, took my coat off, hung it up. Routine.

The first thing I noticed was the flickering light beyond the end of the hallway. "Jasper?" I called. "Hon are you here?"

I walked towards the hallway gingerly; there was someone here alright. Shadows danced across the wall in obscene shapes, melding with one another. I was seeing claws and teeth and distorted faces.

I shook myself. Calm. Stop being silly. The incident from the other night clawed at the back of my neck, talons scraping. It's not all right, here.

I walked into the living room and Jasper was cross legged on the floor, candle lighting his path, finger painting the wall.

I flicked on the light and he squealed, covering his eyes.

"What are you doing Jazz?" I yelled. "I told you not to fucking paint the flat!"

He turned around and his eyes were wild; my breath caught in my throat. "I had to get it all out."

"What?" I demanded, stomping through the space towards him. "What the hell did you need to get out all over my wall? My land lord's gonna go apeshit!" I rounded the couch and there he was.

"Oh my God," I whispered, falling to my knees.

Drizzle was lying there, and I knew instantly. He was gone. His body was splayed out, like he was about to run - but his neck was all twisted at an unnatural angle, his mouth and eyes wide open in what I thought might have been his last cry. I burst into tears, bundling him up in my arms. As I lifted him, I felt wetness. His flesh was torn in shreds on his left side, as if by a wolf of some sort; jagged claws. Blood leaked out and stained my hands, chunks of flesh and organ coating my finger tips as I pulled them away from his still warm corpse.

"Jasper," I sobbed, "what happened to him?" I rocked him, stroking his intact fur. As if he was still there. "Why did you leave him like this? Where did you find him? Why didn't you call?" I wasn't making sense, my head spun around all the unanswered questions, with the biggest lying rigid in my arms, growing cold.

Jasper's blond head faced me, fingers creeping up the wall still, red paint pattering across the plaster; a bleeding spider.

"What happened Jazz?" I repeated, sobbing stupidly now, like a child, rocking senselessly. I was aware that I was dribbling and snot was running down my face but I really didn't care. What happened, a mantra in my head. My poor baby.

Jasper turned. "I was sick of him. The way he crooned around you. You were giving him all your attention." He paused, hatred in his eyes as he stared at the stone bundle in my arms. "He deserved it."

It didn't sink in to begin with. I took it in, but my addled brain couldn't take it. I cried over him, feeling his head pressed in the wrong place in the crook of my arm, the wetness spreading throughout the thin sleeve of my shirt. The emptiness in his chest. The smell of - something, damp that caught in the back of my throat - blood?

And then it clicked. "You- y-you did what?"

"I snapped his neck." He said plainly, not even bothering to turn around. He continued dabbing at the wall, red swirls and rivulets.

"You...you killed him." I said through my tears. "That's a really sick joke, Jasper. What really happened? Did you find him like this? Was he here? Did a dog attack him?" My words came out broken, torn by my tears.

Jasper slammed his hands to the floor and turned, rigid towards me. "I- snapped- his- neck. How hard is that for you to understand?"

"I don't believe you," I whispered, tears slowly ceasing. The fur beneath my fingers was wet and cold.

"How many times do I have to say?" He spat.

"Jasper," I whispered, staring at his twisted expression. His eyes were wide and unforgiving. "You didn't." He didn't answer, and my stomach flipped. I dropped Drizzle and ran to the sink, bile and Coke and half digested lumps of toast spilling out from my mouth. It tasted acrid. I couldn't stop it. The pain in my head came on its own - but I couldn't think, couldn't form any kind of coherent thought, all I wanted was to stop. All I could do was wait, wait until all that was left, dribbling out of my slack mouth, was water.

I lifted my head and turned on the tap. I leant my head against the counter, and started crying afresh; wracking sobs that hurt. My ribs hurt. And I couldn't stop crying.

I felt his arms around me then, winding around my ribs like tentacles, red stained. Like blood. "Bella," he murmured. "Baby, baby I'm sorry." I spat into the running water and lifted my head.

"You're sorry?" I croaked. "You're fucking sorry? Jasper you killed my fucking cat you psychopath!" I turned and hit him off me, slapping every inch I could until he got out of my reach and I slid down the kitchen cabinets, hugging my knees.

"I- I didn't want to, baby he just kept- I dunno, God," he ran his hands through his hair, leaving red streaks through it, and then shoved them deep into his pockets. "I didn't - I couldn't stand seeing you with him, he was- you love him more than me."

"He's a fucking CAT Jasper!" I screamed. "You killed my fucking CAT because you thought we were gonna run off into the sunset together?" I jumped up, punching him square in the jaw. It didn't knock him down but it left a mark. "Get the fuck out!" I screeched.

"Bella, please," he whimpered, his lip quivering like some bad little kid.

"Get. Your. Stuff. And. Get the FUCK out of here!" I punctuated each word with a slap to whatever I could reach as he cowered away from me. Like I was the violent one here. Then he stopped, he just stood there. I stopped.

We stared at each other.

"Fine!" I yelled. I grabbed his stupid slouchy bag and threw it at him, pushing him towards the door. "I never, ever want to see you again," I sobbed. "You complete fucking head case!"

"Bella." He was crying now. The paint on his face mingled with the salt, running red down his cheeks. The realisation sunk in - the walls. The red paint. He had blood on his hands. My poor kitten's blood. "Please, Bella, please don't do this, I'm begging you," he sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "I love you, please, please let me explain!"

"You killed him Jasper! You fucking murderer! You fucking sick minded freak!" I pushed him into the hallway. "Never, ever come here again!"

I slammed the door, and slid down against it. At the corner of the couch I could see Drizzle's tail unmoving, where I'd left him. A red stain had seeped under the corner of the couch and was reaching towards me.

"Bella," I heard through the door. "Please, please!" Begging.

"FUCK OFF YOU CUNT!" I screamed through my tears. I heard his heavy footsteps disappearing down the hallway.

I stared at the wall, the finger painted hearts intwined, like conjoined twins, sharing capillaries and veins. And the furry body on the floor whose heart had stopped. I lifted him into my lap, and reached for the phone, dialing the number without even thinking.

A sigh and a heavy, "Hello?" from the other end, because he'd told me not to call unless there was an emergency.

"Jake?" I sobbed. "Jake, Jake something horrible has happened," I burst into a fresh round of sobs, knitting my fingers into Drizzle's fur. Jake was silent the other end. "Please," I cried. "It's Drizzle," I spluttered out. "He killed him, Jake, he killed him!" I couldn't get another word out.

Jake didn't even ask. "I'll be there in half an hour."

I laid him gently in a white towel and stepped towards the wall. There, lying on Jasper's white painting sheet was a small heart on a milk saucer. White finger marks bled through the blood that coated the heart's resting place. I fell to the floor, and waited next to the corpse.


	6. Chapter 5

Jake stayed two days. When he turned up I didn't have to explain, Angela had called him. He said he'd been waiting for a call that the nut job had done something wrong.

I bristled a bit to think of Jasper as a 'nutjob'. For a second or two every hour, I missed him. And then I'd see the empty milk saucer on the floor, or see the shadow of the blood painting on the wall from underneath the new emulsion and I'd be sickened to the stomach.

Jake barely touched me. He hadn't since...Edward. When he knocked the door I collapsed into his arms and cried. Blood from my clothes and skin stained his shirt and heavy arms. I missed him so much. The heaviness of his arms around me, the security. I missed everything about him.

He took Drizzle's body away. I never really asked what he'd done with him - it was too raw, too painful. I reached out to him, I tried to hold his hand.

After the first night, he wouldn't let me even brush against him. I could see the hurt in his eyes, still.

Before he left, he had the locks changed just in case. I was to ring in emergencies. Emergencies only.

I laid awake at night, the only way to escape Jasper - he was in my dreams whenever I closed my eyes, I felt him above me, the needle searing into my skin. I couldn't escape the twisted ways of our relationship.

I took personal time off work; they weren't that surprised. I spent my days painting over the wall, or scrubbing at it until my skin turned red with blood and paint, but it still came through, like a haunting, the red fingerprints escaping.

In the nights, I thought I heard things, voices, people knocking on the door. I opened it on that particular night, so convinced I was that someone was outside. I popped my head out. I walked into the corridor. "Hello? Is..is anyone there?"

I stepped back in and locked the door, didn't look back. I undressed, I kept all the lights on. Had to keep all the lights on, now.

_I snapped his neck_

My eyes snapped open, having drifted off somehow in the brightly lit bedroom. His words were haunting me, I could never sleep. I didn't think I could ever sleep again. I lurched upright, frozen in fear. I felt him here, I felt him with me, like a ghost - I wanted to scream, irrationally. Probably best my throat was dry, no words to speak - noone to speak to. Noone here any more but me.

I licked my lips; bleeding. Dry, so dry. I pulled myself out of bed and padded along the dark hall to the kitchen. I grabbed a tumbler, filled it from the tap and snuck back to bed.

I lay in the light room, sipping slowly. The darkness outside the door suddenly alerted me.

Why were the lights out? I was sure I'd left them on. The entire building couldn't have gone out- my bedroom light was on.

Which meant someone had to have turned them off.

"Stop being stupid, Bella." But I couldn't shake it. I couldn't - I couldn't forget. I crept out of bed. "Is somebody there?" I called. "Is somebody out there?"

I half expected Drizzle to come cantering in and jump on the bed and curl up next to me, my furry replacement for Jake. Could I call someone? I ran to the light switch in the corridor, flicking it on.

It worked, I hadn't turned it off, there had to - there must be- Maybe I'd just turned it off?

I stopped for a second, gripping the glass as it began to slip from my fingers, sweaty. I could call Jake, right? Just have him talk to me, calm me down.

But this wasn't an emergency. This was me frightened of the dark, like some stupid little baby. "You're not ten any more Bella."

I could ring Edward. He'd said -Jasper had said he left a message. Edward may be laying awake now, wondering why I hadn't called. Unlikely, so unlikely.

But I'd do it anyway. I dashed to the corner table and grabbed the phone from the holder and dialed his number.

"Hello?"

"Edward?" I whispered.

"Yes, who's this? Rose? Rose is that you?" His wife. Ex-wife, after me.

"No- no, I'm sorry, it's Bella."

"Oh, right, hey Bell. You took a while to call. And late," he chuckled.

"I'm - I'm sorry, there was a - um, there was an issue, with your call - it's fine now." I lied. "I- God, this sounds, this sounds dumb. Never mind," I giggled falsely. "Sorry for waking you up."

I heard him shift, "You didn't wake me up. I was awake." His tone changed. "Do you want me to come over?"

"It's - it's not like that, Edward," I stumbled. "I'm scared, it's - I can't explain. It's so fucked up, God, it's so fucked up. Can you come over, actually? God I'm sorry, I'm such a baby - I'm just - God I'm so scared."

"Leave the door open, I'll be there in half an hour."

"Cool. Um, thanks, Edward. You don't realise...how much this means to me. You didn't sign up for my emotions, sorry." It seemed so quiet right then, I flicked him onto speaker. His next words filled the flat, but somehow made it seem even more empty.

"You mean something to me, Bell - whenever you call I'll come. Where are you now? In bed?"

"No - I'm in the hallway," I murmured. "I'm too scared to move," I managed. Stupid, stupid little girl. Little girl hiding under the covers.

He laughed quietly. "Don't be silly Bell, I'm coming. Go make yourself some warm milk, turn the TV on, I'll be there before you know it."

"Thanks Edward."

"I- I love you, Bella. Still. You have to know that." He hung up. The line beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-ped on until I hit the red button.

I pitter-pattered, bare footed into the kitchen and flicked the light on, busying myself with the microwave and the milk. I turned to the living area and the mug crashed to the floor at my feet, milk spilling over my toes and burning.

"My God," I gasped. "Wha- wha- How long have you been here? How did you get in?"

Jasper was sitting on the floor with his knees to his chest, back to the blood paint wall.

"I- I just wanted to be near you."

Fuck, my feet were scalded. "Get out. How the fuck did you get in?"

"I- I - I miss you, Bella. I love you." He stood up. "Who's Edward? Are you seeing him now? You love him now, huh?"

"Jasper," I growled. "Leave. I don't want you here, we've been over this." I stepped forward, and steeled myself. "Whatever you thought we had, it's gone. You know what? There wasn't even anything there to begin with."

"We slept together," he reminded. "You told me you loved me."

True. True again, and in my heart I knew I'd meant it. Even now it was hard, not to forgive him and jump in his arms and cry and tell him I missed him- but he'd killed my cat.

He wasn't stable.

And the fact he'd found his way into my house at 3 in the morning and had just been_ sitting_ there didn't exactly lessen the stereotype.

"I lied. I just wanted casual sex." I watched his face distort into a mask of pain, and drove the dagger in again. "It meant nothing to me."

"Who is he, Bella? Why- why would you do that to me?"

"It's none of your business," I hissed. "Get out."

He ran towards me and I stumbled backwards, crushing the china under my foot. The sharp pain distracted me and he was there, pulling me towards him, lips on mine.

It felt like fire in my lungs, his lips pressed against mine, his fingers wound in my hair. For a second my hand crept to his shoulder then it dropped. He let go.

"See? You still feel it. You still love me." Triumphant.

"Jasper- I-" And my senses were lost. "I cut my foot," I whimpered, looking down into the puddle of pinky-white, blood and milk.

"Baby," he crooned, picking me up and placing me on the kitchen counter. He pulled the shards out and cleaned me up, bandaged me up. "I knew you still loved me, that's why I came, I needed your body against me again, I need you with me Bella, every part of you. Forever."

He started kissing me, and I pulled away, his hands grabbing at my shirt, trying to tear it away, trying to feel my skin - trying to re-consummate.

"Stop it Jasper! Stop it- I don't want this!" He continued. "Get off me!" I cried, kicking his chest away from me and jumping from the counter.

"Get out!"

"Bella- you - you don't mean that. We're us again, we're, we're us now we're here it's all here, you can't just take it- give and take it away again- No. No you, you don't mean it. I'm losing my mind here Bella!"

"You've already lost it, Jasper. Look at the wall." Mists of red were appearing again. "You took a life, a life I loved. Look at yourself," I whispered. "You need to leave. I mean it- don't come back."

"Stop tearing my world apart." He touched my face, grazing his fingertips like silk across my jaw.

Then he left, door swinging.

Edward came a while later and found me on the floor with the blood milk. I wouldn't stop staring at it. Maybe Drizzle would have lapped at it.

And so I explained. And he curled me up and shared my bed, and comforted me and made me feel right again. I didn't love him, no. But he was there - he was inside the mess I had become and I was welcome for it.


	7. Chapter 6

Edward stayed for two weeks. The time spent with him was calmer than our original time together, stolen meetings, eggshell conversations. We got to know each other again, and slowly my confidence came back so that I was able to leave the house and go to work, in order to afford living again.

I seemed to be getting more forgetful. We were running out of food quicker than usual, and sometimes things just weren't in the place where I'd put them. But Edward reminded me that after the strain of the past few months, I was probably just eating absentmindedly and moving things without realising it. It was logical, but I couldn't shake the feeling something was amiss. Which was also to be expected.

I locked and chained the door every time I came home, including after each cigarette - I hated the apartment to smell like an ashtray. On returning I found Edward in the kitchen burning something over the hob on the last Tuesday we spent together, and rushed towards him to put it out.

"What have you got there?" I grabbed the burning paper and doused it in the sink.

"Bella, just - don't read them. Bella, give them back." Deadly serious expression. I giggled.

"Has Eddie been writing me love letters?" I teased, spotting a heart in the corner of one of the scraps of paper he had behind him in a bundle. There were a fair few.

I picked up the drowning scrap from the sink - luckily it had been more durable than the other papers as the ink would have disappeared by now.

I read aloud what I could manage. "I love you - I miss you, something something to be able something something, uh - close to you is a gift for me." I looked up at his ashen face, grinning. "Aw, baby, I didn't know you felt that way!"

"Bell-" he began, but foolishly I cut him off.

"I refuse to wait any longer for something, something, something killing me," I paused. The note was signed in red ink and I struggled to see the E in the smudged shape. It looked like a J. "You can barely write your own initials," I chuckled. "What did the rest of it say?"

"Bell," he grasped me by both arms. "Honey, I haven't been honest with you."

I frowned. "Are you still seeing Rose?"

"Bell...Honey I didn't write these. They've - been on your pillow every day, just before you get in from work. I've found them in other places too, around the apartment...I think they're from Jasper. They're signed J. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I just didn't want to scare you. I've checked the apartment constantly; there's no way he could've gotten in and I've never seen him. I- I didn't want you to be scared, Bell. I'm sorry."

My heart was thumping loudly in my ears, blood rushing past like the current in a river, pulling me down. Edward's face swam in and out of focus, until he faded completely.

When I opened my eyes I was on the couch. "You fainted." Edward informed me from above. I was lying on his lap. I struggled up and he offered me water.

My brain finally understood, overwhelmed as it had been so often lately - that was the reason my forgetfulness had been plausible. It meant something completely different, now. I didn't care for ghost stories. "May I read them?"

He nodded. "They're for you, after all."

He crossed to the kitchen counter and brought back the scraps. There were twelve in all, but I surmised that Edward had already burnt a few. They were written in black or red ink, on different kinds of cards and paper. They appeared to have been torn from scraps of every day objects - the label from a juice carton, lined office paper, fancy artsy paper, newspaper cuttings with messages etched around them.

They read in varying intensity, the smaller messages simple.

'_My dearest, I feel so empty without your touch. J'_

_'Baby, when I'm able to sleep, I dream of you. J'_

_'Darling Bella, you are still as beautiful as ever during sleep, when your dreams dance behind your eyelids. I hate to see you with him, wrapped around you, tarnishing your glow. I'll be with you soon. J'_

_'Bella, it sounds cliche to say I feel each breath you take, but as I write this you are so close I could touch you. I can hear your laugh- it pains me you no longer laugh with me. Forever, J'_

_'My everything, I noticed today you've covered up my painting. I'm still so sorry of its circumstance, you never let me explain, you never gave me the chance. I hope when we stand together soon you'll understand. Remember me. J'_

_'Bella, all I feel I have left to hold onto you now is our tattoos. Etched into more than skin, you are in my blood, my soul, and I in yours. Do not forget. J'_

_'He will leave soon. If he doesn't - I'll make him. He cannot have you, he cannot love you like I do. J'_

_'Bella, I think my time is running out. My chest is hollow without you. I'll find you soon, and you'll never leave again. J'_

_'He cooked for you last night. I watched. He cannot continue to keep you. Come back to me or I'll wrap our love around his throat and wring him dry of his breath.'_

_'Baby, do you remember the day I painted doves all over your feet? I miss your smile, I miss making you smile. J'_

_'Precious, I'm losing the will to live without you. I carved your name into my skin today. I want to replace the blood I took. All I need is you. J'_

_'I heard you screaming today as he fucked you. I thought you were hurt, but it seems it was only me.'_

"Are they in order?" I whispered.

"The most recent was the last but one. Bella - I found a razorblade with it, the edges were covered in blood."

"He's been in here. While we've slept. We have to change the locks again."

"I won't let him hurt you." Edward smiled, brushing my hair behind my ear.

"I won't let him hurt _you, _either."


	8. Chapter 7

Thank you to those whom are reviewing; it really keeps me going that people actually want more of this story. I feel that I may have left Bella's emotions out of the equation by writing, and am giving this chapter to you all as a defense of her actions.

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><p>I was alone again. Edward had left - I woke up yesterday morning and I watched him sleeping, tangled around the sheets. His muscular arms were above him and I reached to snuggle back under one- but I knew those were not the arms I wanted.<p>

When Jake had left, I needed Edward. While Jake and I were together, we were growing further apart, and there Edward was. I spent the most time with him during the days, he understood, he was going through problems with his wife - we confided in each other. I had a best friend and a confidante while my best friend and love of my life was pulling away.

And so it became physical. When I had noone, I remembered that as a time of wild abandon, of feelings, of comfort, of danger - would we get caught? Every time I saw him I was exhilarated.

At the time, I felt cheapened, used, guilty. When I saw Rose, the guilt ate away at me. I could barely look at Jake. I'd lost my appetite, was nervous constantly - and turned to him for comfort, but he pushed me away. In the time when I needed him most, he wasn't there. I refused to be blamed for finding someone else who was.

When Edward had returned, I remembered all the good. But lying in bed staring at his eyelids fluttering in dreams, I remembered watching Jake as he slept the night after he'd received the email. I remembered sneaking into our room to find clothes to go to work, clothes I would be fired in. I stopped to look at him, arm outstretched - for me? I had slept on the sofa that night, if you could call it sleeping.

When women cry, you can tell. Their foundation has streaks down their cheeks, their mascara plasters their face, their lipstick somehow manages to end up in the oddest of places. When men cry it's less obvious, especially if their eyes are closed.

But Jake works in manual labour. And he got dirty quite a lot. He'd cried his face clean, but dirt-tears had collected on his chin and on his pillow. And his eyes as I watched them, still, were puffy and red. Jake is 6 foot 5. He was possibly triple my weight. And as I watched him lying there, barely breathing, he looked like a child that was scared of the dark. He probably knew I was there, the lack of movement told me he may have been awake. But he never mentioned it.

Edward and I were dismissed on the same day. I, stupidly looked to him for something, anything, as I cried noiselessly in Head Office, while they tore me and my reputation to shreds.

He offered me nothing. He never gave unless he was getting something in return, rarely told the truth and liked to tell people what they wanted to hear.

I looked at Edward now and I remembered the tears, the uncertainty, the betrayal. And I realised why he was here.

And when he awoke I asked him to leave, which meant that when I returned from work that day, Jasper's note was undisturbed on my pillow.

_'My Dear One, I'm so glad you've made him leave. I knew you didn't want him here, not really. I don't think you want a substitute for my arms around you, just like I don't want a substitute for you. I haven't told you everything about myself - which I'm sure you know- about my past. I didn't want to write it in a note like this, but seeing as you don't want to see me, it's the only way. I left Chicago because my girlfriend Alice shot herself in front of me. After losing her, I thought I could never feel the same, or a fraction of the same about any one else. And then you came into my life. And the feelings were not the same, they were stronger - they are stronger. I love you so much and I'm starting to worry you don't realise how much. I couldn't bare to lose you Bella, to anything or anyone, not now that I've found you. Tell me, whenever, and I'll come back. All I want is to be with you and make you happy. I will love you forever. J'_

When I let the letter lie, tears were rolling down my cheeks. I considered, briefly, writing him a note on the reverse of the envelope on which the letter was written, an envelope from my mail this morning. But I didn't.

No hurt of any kind warranted Jasper's behaviour. I considered my feelings for him slowly.

There is a parental love, which is forever. Your child can steal, beg, lie and kill, and you will love them forever. As I understood it, that was eternal love, unyielding and true.

There is a love of the same kind which I had experienced, not parental, but forever. I felt this for Jake. My first love. No matter how much time will pass, I will always love Jake, and I will always want to be with him whether I marry another man, have his children, and lie in a grave with him. I will always want everything with Jake. I will always want the house by the sea, I will always want the dark haired children running about, I will always want the cat and the dog, I will always want the big family.

There is a love I have also experienced, with Edward. I have no name for this love. I hated him in ways, despised him, cut our relationship off, but when he called, I'd answer. I would drop most things for him. He was my safety net. I didn't want the marriage with him, nothing that I wanted from Jake. But if he asked me, I probably would.

And there was Jasper. I tried to forget how I felt now, the horror and revultion I felt when I thought of his name and remembered the bad times. I tried to forget the initial 'don't like this guy' moment I'd had. I tried to remember the way I felt when he stayed the night the first time we'd met, and he slept on the couch because he didn't want me to think he was ungentlemanly. I tried to remember the way I felt when he painted me for the first time, I tried to remember the way I felt when our lips touched and something in my stomach flipped and I thought I was gonna be sick it was so strong. I tried to remember the way it felt in my _chest_ when we made love, not anywhere else on my body. I tried to remember the way I felt when he held my hand.

I remembered it all, and I loved him, I loved him stupidly, I loved him irrationally, I loved him the kind of love that noone but you two understands. I loved him in the way that it hurt when he wasn't around. The love where you fall in love blisteringly quick; that kinda love you don't understand, the constant pull you feel towards another human being that melts your insides, the feeling that if you are with them, you have to be touching them, and if you're not with them you want to be with them or talking to them or talking about them.

I thought of him then, how things would be in my own little world; what I wanted, what I craved.

We would lie in bed face to face and stare at each other for too long and he'd gently tap my nose and kiss my eyelids and I'd know it would be okay as long as he was there and he would love me, like he's always loved me, even before he knew me when he knew something was missing and he had to find the something and save it and he loved it before he knew exactly what it was.

And I'd always loved what would save me before I knew what would save me. When I cried at night because of lost love or because I had to cry from the sucking hole in my middle, tearing away the good and leaving the illness inside me, it was because I was longing for him and I knew he was somewhere and we called to one another in the nights despite not having names.

That is how things would be.

But I couldn't forget forever. There is another kind of love, for pets and posessions, and I thought of that, and I thought of the goldfish Sunshine I had to flush when I was 9 and how I'd cried, and I thought of my dog back home with my Dad that was so much nicer and friendlier than my Mother's yappy little shit of a dog, and I thought of how he would jump up at my knees and I thought of how much I missed him when I moved away, and how my Dad forgot to tell me he'd died and the way I felt.

Then I thought of how I felt when I cradled my own pet, mine and Jake's baby of sorts, with his blood all over my clothes, and on the wall sat a crude painting of my heart, intertwined with the one who'd done this to him, and the blood still appeared through the white lick of paint on top. I remembered the night terrors where I saw him over me, I remembered the imagined moments lying next to Edward where I'd wake up to him watching. I ran my fingers over the four letter tattoo on my hip, finally healed, perfectly ugly.

I loved him, but I could never forget. There are some loves like that, I surmised. Where you love someone endlessly but irreconcilable differences tear you apart.


	9. Chapter 8

I sat with the envelope note for a while, and eyed the message I'd written back to him.

"I miss you," I whispered. "I love you. We can get you help, we can stop this. We can get through it all."

I shook my head, tears rolling down my face. I slumped backwards on my bed, curling into a ball, tears unrelenting.

I didn't know any more, what I wanted, who I loved. I felt alone, falling as though through a window pane - shards sticking in, people watching me from below, screaming, but ultimately alone in my flight, and alone when I would inevitably hit the ground.

I stood up, wiping my tears, then tore the envelope to shreds.

I fixed my make up and left the apartment, hopping down to Starbucks. I ordered a black coffee and sat in the same seat I'd sat in when I met Jasper for the first time, and thought.

I tried to find a way out. I couldn't let him continue as he was. The idea of being watched by someone as unstable as Jasper left me cold and frightened. Cutting him off completely was unadvisable - he might try something even worse. Inviting him home to continue our relationship was even worse. Who would die next? What would he force me into after a few mischosen words? His notes had varied between violent and lovelorn. How close had he come to throttling Edward, really?

Worse, what if he hurt Jake?

Jake could look after himself, sure. But - Jasper was losing it. Or had lost it. He could do untold damage.

I was still weighing options three hours later with a glass of whiskey in hand back in my apartment. I rarely drank the stuff, but Jake's father bought it for us every Christmas, and I didn't mind the dull blurriness that came with it.

I popped out for a cigarette at 6 o clock, shivering in the cold winter air. I returned to the apartment to find the door ajar. Had I really left it like that? I shuddered, locking it behind me, chaining it for extra safety.

I stepped in, and went to the bedroom. I slipped out of my clothes and into a nightdress for the night. Folding my clothes meticulously, I heard a door slam.

"Is someone there?" I whispered. I edged along the corridor and hovered behind the entrance to the kitchen. Was he in there?

"Bella," I heard, far off to my left. "Are we playing hide and seek?"

Jasper was here, though the voice sounded so child like and lost I began to think it was coming from inside my mind. It wasn't safe here.

My next target had to be the front door. I had to get out. Then I heard him, his heavy footsteps around the corner. Where could I run? Where could I hide? The door was so close but I'd slam right into him if I ran straight to it.

I dashed around the apartment, through the lounge and barricaded myself in the spare room. There was nothing useful in this room; it had been Jake's study and was previously full of boxes. It was just a box itself now.

I listened.

I couldn't hear him moving outside. Had he left?

I backed away from the door but kept my eyes on it, moving towards the window. My heart pounded unevenly in my chest. If only I could get out from the window silently - but what about the drop? What could I do?

I took another step backwards, my hand behind me to feel for the ledge of the window.

I collided with something, and barely held back my scream. Thank God I'd stayed silent. I didn't want to alert him to my whereabouts. I held my breath and turned to inspect whatever I'd bumped into.

My heart stopped in my throat.

"Hi Bella," he whispered. "I've found you."

I cried out and ran for the door, fumbling with the lock and flinging the door open. I finally reached the kitchen in a frenzy, then realised dumbly there was nowhere to go. I turned to him and he was just walking slowly to me. He didn't look particularly scary.

"I'm down again." He whispered. "I was swimming, treading water, shrieking and splashing water. But now the waves are choppy and I keep slipping under, water filling my mouth. I'm tired of losing myself so often. So much more difficult now to stay stable, when it's so neccessary. Yes, I could take the pills, I could see the guy. But I don't want to. I don't want anything. Nothing but you. And now- now you're taking yourself away."

There was nowhere to run. Wherever I went, he'd follow. This was it. "So let's just get it over and done Jasper. Why are you here?" I tried to sound it out, say the words, sound - I don't know. Scary? Threatening?

But my dry mouth, the shaking in my limbs, it all combined to leave a young girl stumbling over empty words in a thin cotton dress.

"You should know, Bella," he said, beseeching. "Soon, I know you'll see! You know why I'm here, you know what I want. You're just like me, you'll know. Think, this is what we both want."

He advanced towards me and I retreated to the counter, tipping the bottle of whiskey I'd drunk earlier over the edge and smashing to the floor below. It spread amongst the glass, lapping at my bare toes.

"Don't run from me, Bella. I'm here for you. I want you, you want me. We both want this, I just want all of you, I want you back, I want you to be mine forever."

"I was never yours," I gasped, trapped in the corner.

"You've always been mine!" He screamed. "YOU NEVER STOPPED BEING MINE, BELLA!"

I grabbed the closest thing, the glint in the corner of my eye that had only just become apparent. Kitchen knife in the sink.

"Don't come any closer Jasper. I'll-I'll, I will use this."

For the fraction of a second, I saw terror in his eyes. I had made him feel like he was making me feel.

We were just like each other.

Then it was gone, in a flash, and in the same nanosecond he'd pulled out a box of matches. "I'll use this. Drop the knife, Bella."

I gaped at the alcohol on the floor, and moved away. He'd do it, I knew.

"Drop the fucking knife!"

I didn't. He dropped his weapon - the lit match - into the swimming floor. It lit and the flames took to the floor, burning high and bright.


	10. Chapter 9

Thanks for reading. Reviews will get a little extra explanation from yours truly.

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><p>"Jasper," I begged. "Call the fire brigade, we're gonna burn to death in here!"<p>

"Oh so now you want to co-operate," he chuckled. "Not until you drop the damn knife Bella!"

"Jasper, please - we're going to- Jasper! Please! Let me call them, or put it out- or something!" The flames were moving now, eating alive the kitchen counters. The sound of the fire alarm began until it was difficult to hear what Jasper was saying.

The result was that he wouldn't let me. He wanted me here, stuck with him, for as long as possible.

"Leave me alone, Jasper!" I screamed. "It's over, we're through!"

"Bella, you love me, I know you do, you left the note, you left the note!"

"In a moment of weakness! I threw it away! You wouldn't have seen it unless you were going through my trash, Jas!" His nickname slipped out in my panic, and I wished I kept more vases. The sink was the only water source. I began coughing, my eyes watering.

"I watched you write it!" He screamed. "I watched you cry and write it and cry and you wanted me there, you wanted me here, so I came!"

"It wasn't meant to be, Jasper! We never were- we, we could have been!" I sobbed. "But not now, not like this, Jas, please help me - put it out, or we'll both die here."

"You threw that Edward in my face! And the fucking cat he was just your connection to Jake! You never thought of me here, waiting for you!"

"I never tried to, Jasper, please," I sobbed, coughing uncontrollably. Jasper was moving further from the fire now, and I followed - it made so little difference. My head was swimming, my skin prickling.

How long did we have left?

"I remember the way you looked when I first saw you," he said, moving closer until I brandished the knife again. "How lost and alone. And I felt like that and I put on a persona, and I tried to make it better, and I did, we both know I did!"

"If I'd known then what you'd become, I never would have let you through my door," I snarled at him, kitchen knife in hand. What was I going to do with it? Honestly, I didn't know yet.

But it made me feel safer.

"You should've known!" He howled, tearing his hands down his face, a madman burning. "You should have known what you would do!"

"What I would do? Don't you blame me for this! I never asked for this! " His eyes burned in the light of the flames and I wondered if the phone had been caught in them yet. Could I reach it? Would he let me?

"But I do blame you, Bella. And now you're going to pay for it." He pulled the gun from the waistband of his jeans.

My breath stuck in my throat: what could I say? I loved him? For in truth, I didn't any more, I hated him. My head spun with the heat, the noise of the fire alarm piercing my senses.

"Goodbye," he sobbed, tears mingling with the sweat on his face. "I really love you, Bella, I really do. But if I can't have you, noone else can."

He aimed and shot.

I crashed to the floor, the burning pain in my shoulder all I could think of- all I could breathe was the pain, all I could see was the pain, all I could hear. Everything was so hot, so smoky. The fire alarm was shrieking- why had no-one come yet? Why was I stuck here?

My shoulder felt shattered. I tried to move my fingers but couldn't. Everything was blurred, the shapes, the sounds, even the smell of the smoke was warped. But I remember that day better than any other of my entire life.

Everything went dark. I was propped up against the partition between the lounge and the wall. I could hear voices. There was no smoke any more. No heat.

"Yes, everything's fine," I heard him speaking. Was he at the door? Had someone come?

I tried to scream for help, but barely a croak came from my lips. I tried to move my arm again; the pain was blinding, a thousand needles drilling into me. I heard the door slam.

He was at my knees, holding them. "I'm here baby, I'm here," he whispered.

I croaked, finally, "Why aren't I dead?"

He started crying, then. "I can't live without you, you're- you're my life source, I need you to live. I need you. I remember when I met you, you were so close to me. You weren't nervous and I was all shaky; in the same place, at the same time. I was convinced it was fate, I have to admit. Your eyes were a deep brown, so smouldering that day...I was again, convinced that you could see right into my soul, see through my pathetic façade. I also hoped you could see with your all-knowing eyes how good we would be together."

I groaned and felt my body slip down further, in amongst the blurriness I thought to see a welt of blood on the floor. My blood.

He saw it too. "You're -Bella, Bella you're bleeding I'm wasting it, I'm wasting all your life," he began trying to pick it up with his fingers, succeeding only in coating them in the same red paint that adorned my wall. "Do you remember? The way your hair was damp and messy, in disarray. And the way when you pulled your jacket from your body, your shirt rode up a little, exposing your stomach. I had to look away."

He began collecting the thick red, my life source, and tried to press my blood back inside the wound. My failing throat let out a scream of pain unwillingly - I hadn't tried this time.

"Baby, I don't want to waste it - this is what keeps you alive and you keep me alive so it keeps me alive, stop bleeding!"

"You shot me," I hissed.

"I- I didn't mean to," he lied. How could he not have meant to hit me? Maybe he meant that he didn't mean to miss and leave me in a painful state. I lost focus again, could only hear him mumbling.

_I love you, I need you to live, and you need this to live, you need this in you to live and I need you to live...what will I do when you're gone? Who will I have? Maybe I will - maybe I will find someone else, like you are Alice and I will find a Bella. You were - you were better than her. _

_Don't scream, my love. I'm here. All I want - all I want is you. To be with you. You. You can't live without me. But you're - you aren't going to live now, are you? And everything keeping you alive is running away. And I need that to keep me alive, I need it and you, I need - you. _

And then I felt a dragging pain from my shoulder, difficult to describe. Like giving blood but on a larger scale, like being pulled but not moving.

Then a wrenching pain, tearing. I screamed again and opened my eyes. The dragging had stopped, and I looked in time to see Jasper's red mouth spitting out the bullet.

Huh. I thought that only happened in movies.

My arm was gushing blood again, my head swam. I felt the dragging again. I felt lighter and lighter. I opened my eyes again. Jasper was lapping at my wound like a puppy.

I tried to protest but it was difficult; only a croak escaped my throat.

He snapped up, alarmed. "Bella- I don't - I didn't want to," he wiped his mouth, and his image spun around me, red lips, pink chin. Crazed eyes. "I have to- I have to get as much of you as I can before you - before you go."

And I was going. Badly, quickly. Everything felt cold; my fingertips felt empty and icy. I could hardly keep my eyes open.

I heard, rather than saw, Jasper convulsing, retching. Liquid hitting the floor. Turns out his system couldn't handle his life source.

As I drifted I thought of the first day I met him. If there was anything I missed, anything that could have told me that he'd be the one to ruin my life, and take it.

There wasn't much left. Nor in that day.

I couldn't fully comprehend then, the shock associated with what was happening to me. I can now. I can see that my ex boyfriend, ex..whatever he was, shooting me and then sucking my blood like some sort of perverted vampire - that's something you fight against. That's something you try and run from.

But I was just lying there, slumped against the coffee table. I didn't fight any more. I didn't even try: I knew I could make no sound. I couldn't move any more. Maybe before - maybe before I could have tried. But not any more. I heard him whisper, I love you. And then I was gone.

It's difficult to explain, going. It's not - bam, dead, like I'd thought it would be. It was going once, going twice...going...going...gone. The blankness just never stopped. Well, it hasn't yet. Maybe some time soon - I don't know what time is, here, though - I'll wake up and I'll have been in a coma.

I keep hoping.

I don't think I'll get my wish, to wake up. But he got his. Noone will ever have me again; he had my last hour, my last minute, my last second.

I hope he choked on my blood.


End file.
